


To Pray a While

by soprano_buddy15



Category: The Last Kingdom, The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Hild cares for Finan, S02E03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:21:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24174265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soprano_buddy15/pseuds/soprano_buddy15
Summary: Hild finds Finan after rescuing Uhtred and Finan from the slave ship.
Relationships: Hild & Finan
Comments: 11
Kudos: 52





	To Pray a While

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back!
> 
> I adore Finan, and I adore Hild, and I just know that they would have some interesting interactions. Especially after rescuing Finan from the slave ship. This one delves into Christianity a lot as well, and was inspired by Finan's prayer in Episode 4 of Season 4, just before the large battle. It is one of my FAVOURITE moments on the show EVER, and also by Finan's self proclaimed "I am a good Christian boy."
> 
> In short, I am very curious as to what Hild and Finan's first interaction was like, and this is where my brain went!
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and constructive comments are always welcome! Just don't be rude, because nobody wants that.

Hild wondered at how such a brutal place could hold so much beauty. 

The lovely spring air was warm as it filtered down gently. The sun was setting and the last rays of sun emphasized the golden wheatgrass of the fields. The ocean washed gently against the shore, and Sverri’s slave ship was slowly getting pulled out into the open water.

She washed her hands gently in the stream of Uhtred’s blood. Her hands shook as she remembered the scars across his back, the amount of effort it took for him to lift Serpent-Breath. She sniffed, letting the tears fall a little. It hurt her to see the strong Uhtred bent so low, but she hoped that her speech to him would help. 

“Is he okay?” 

She jumped in surprise and Ragnar put up his hands in apology. “I did not hear you coming,” she confessed, smiling at him. 

Ragnar smiled back and knelt down beside her, but concern framed his face as he noticed the blood running down her fingers. “Hild?” He asked again. 

Hild wiped her hands on her shift, drying them. “He will be okay,” she said. “He is Uhtred. He is strong.” She squinted as she looked towards the setting sun. “He just needed to find that again.”

Ragnar nodded. “Have you talked to the other one?” He asked hesitantly. “Finan, I think?”

They stood up, and Ragnar began walking her back to their base camp where Steapa was sitting, tending the fire. “I have not,” she said, walking slowly. “He went in the opposite direction of Uhtred… and I felt that I must care for Uhtred first.” She stopped walking, and Ragnar turned to her. “I also feel,” she confessed. “That I will not be able to help him. I do not know him.”

“I understand,” Ragnar said. “But if I know anything, it is Uhtred. He chooses men based on their honour, and he has never been wrong.”

Hild fished the scissors out of her bag and examined them. “I suppose I should go and find him,” she said. “The sun is setting.”

Ragnar laid his hand on Hild’s shoulder, and she reached up to grasp his arm. They had become close during their time searching for Uhtred, and she appreciated his friendship. “Can you please see to Uhtred?” She asked, and he nodded before turning to find him. 

Hild stopped by the fire to grab clean bandages and scraps of cloth for cleaning, tossing the dirty ones from Uhtred into the fire. Steapa gave her a look, but did not get up as she continued on. 

She followed a footpath of bent grasses for a while until she came to a small clearing with the stream. It was the same stream that Uhtred had found, only he rested further up the small hill. 

The clearing was small, but the smell of the fresh wild flowers was strong and butterflies lazily floated around. The sound of splashing water drew her attention to the narrow end of the clearing; she found a faded and stained tunic sitting in a pile. The stream rounded a small corner, and if she craned her head, she could see hands dipping into stream. Clearing her throat, she waited as she heard scrambling, and Finan’s head popped up just over the grasses.

Hild knew that Finan had suffered just as Uhtred did, but his hollow eyes and cracked lips wanted to make Hild weep. The sores on his face from the salty ocean water were bleeding, and the matted hair around his face had bits of dirt and grass stuck in it.

“My apologies,” he stammered, his voice cracking from disuse. “I did not realize-”

Hild held up her hand. “It is my fault,” she said gently. “I should have made my presence known sooner.”

Finan’s eyes glanced toward his discarded tunic, and then back up at Hild. “I-“ He stuttered, face flushing.

Hild quickly brought her scissors up and showed them to him. “I just got back from Uhtred,” she explained. “I wondered if you would like some assistance?”

Realization dawned on his face as he understood what she was asking. He nodded slowly, and Hild made her way around the corner of the clearing. 

He was sitting, hunched over and eyes downcast. Scars laced his back, and Hild swallowed thickly as she tried not to notice his protruding ribs and collarbones, instead trying to focus on his hands. 

They were slender, but strong. As well, she realized that he had been attempting to wash his arms, and the dirt and grime was running down his arms in rivulets. She knelt beside him, and handed him several cloths. “This should help,” she murmured. 

Finan did not say anything, but rather focused on her wooden crucifix. He frowned. “Are you a woman of the cloth, Hild?” He asked. He sounded surprised.

“Yes,” she said, grasping her crucifix. “Well, I try my best to follow God.” She waited for him to speak, but he said nothing. Hesitating, she lifted her scissors. “Might I trim your hair?”

He nodded, but kept his eyes fixed on her crucifix. Hild knew that it meant something to Finan, in a way different to Uhtred. She gently lifted it over her head, and placed it in his dirty hands. “Do you need to pray?” She asked as she began cutting his hair. 

He ran his fingers over the cross, examining it. “I have not stopped,” he admitted, and Hild felt her heart break. She continued cutting, creating quite a choppy mess, but the strands were beginning to untangle and she could run her fingers through his dark brown hair. 

“I never was the type to willingly go to church,” he said suddenly, and Hild had to strain to hear him, his voice was so quiet. “My Ma tried her best to teach us properly, but my brother and I much rather preferred to run around, fighting.” After a moment, he laughed, shaking his head. “If only she knew how much I’ve prayed these past years. I most certainly have made up enough for the lack of it in my youth.”

Hild smiled as he finished talking began studying the wooden crucifix in his hands again. She could recognize a rebellious streak in his character that was sure to be a handful once he was strong again. After a while, she finished cutting the knots out of his hair, and he looked up as she set the scissors down. “Thank you,” he whispered. 

Hild sat there for a moment. He was just as weak as Uhtred, but somehow his spirit had persisted. It was then that she remembered that somehow he had found the strength to lift a sword and pierce it through Sverri’s neck. She remembered how he had turned around once Sverri had fallen, and the expression on his face had been almost mad. She knew the emotions he must have been feeling would have been overwhelming.

“Finan, would it be alright if I cleaned your back?” She asked, pulling out the clean cloths. “I wish to bandage your wounds.”

He nodded, and turned away from her. She lifted the clean linen to his back and gently washed the grime away. “How long were you on the ship?” She asked hesitantly. She actually was very curious about the Irishman. Uhtred had a unique ability to find the left behind in any group, such as Sihtric. Finan, she knew somehow, was no different. 

He was quiet, only wincing slightly when she accidentally brushed over tender areas on his back. “I met Uhtred only a couple of months after I first got on the ship,” he whispered, his eyes on the cross. “It was his strength and determination that kept me going. I do not know if I would have continued living if not for him.”

Hild stopped sponging his back for a moment. “I think you do not give yourself enough credit,” she said gently. “The fact that you held fast for over two years on a slave ship is testament to your strength.”

He sat in silence as her words washed over him. He was continually examining her crucifix, and Hild let him continue holding it tight. “I wanted to die,” he whispered. “So many times I wondered if I should just let them kill me.” A tear slipped down his cheek.

Hild repositioned herself so she was sitting directly in front of him, and clasped his hands in between her own. “Your strength comes from here,” she said, resting her hand over his heart, “and from Him.” She squeezed his hands holding the crucifix. “You have suffered just like Christ did on the cross, and you will find your reward, Finan. Your peace will come.”

He stared at her, mouth agape, clearing hanging on to every word she was saying. Hild squeezed his hands again before gently tucking the scissors back into her bag and gathering up the dirty and bloody cloths. “I was not expectin’ there to be a nun waiting for us when we came ashore,” he said finally, smiling. “I am thankful to God that you are here.”

The sun had almost set by now, and although Finan needed a lot of help yet, he seemed stronger. She held out his tunic, and he flushed again. “I don’t know if I can get it on by myself,” he whispered, clearly embarrassed.

“Then I will assist you,” Hild replied. “We help each other. If you ever need it, Finan, you only need to ask.” She bundled it up and placed it over his head, and helped him work his arms through the sleeves. It had obviously been made for him when he was much larger, and hung around his frail frame.

Finan pulled the sleeves of his tunic over his hands and curled into himself. Hild frowned, concerned. “Finan, are you ready to go back to the fire?”

He shook his head. “I think,” he said. “I think I need to pray.” He met her eyes. “I am forever grateful to you, Sister Hild.”

The raw emotion on Finan’s face broke Hild’s heart. This man had been through so many hardships, and she imagined that they stretched even further beyond the slave ship. As she looked into his eyes, she knew that this man was full of a fierce kindness and determined loyalty. 

The previous apprehension she had shared with Ragnar earlier was completely gone. Here was a man who she knew would stay with Uhtred until his last breath. Uhtred and Finan had been at the lowest they had ever been, together. Although she loved Uhtred and would until the next life, she felt a kinship with Finan, something that she knew she did not share with Uhtred. 

She stood, preparing to head back to their fire. Hopefully Ragnar had found Uhtred by now and they were preparing to eat. 

“Wait, Sister,” he said, and she quickly looked back at him. “This belongs to you.” With shaky hands, he held out her simple wooden crucifix. 

“Oh,” said Hild, surprised she had forgotten it. It had been with her since she was eleven years old. Thinking suddenly, she closed his fingers over the wood. “Keep it. Just for now, and I will help you find another. May this one help you find your peace.”

He drew back, and Hild could see the gratefulness in his expression. “I will leave you to your prayers,” she said softly, and as she turned, he crossed himself, and she walked away to the gentle murmur of him praying softly.


End file.
